Cycling through New York

I was cycling through New York today. First Brooklyn. Strange sounds coming from a Baptist church. I have to see it. Inside. Sunday service. I’m greeted warmly by three consecutive doormen. I’m the only white person in a church full of black people. A strange feeling. The priest muses about lost images of fathers and finding them again on Father’s Day. Relatively quietly at first, slowly. Then faster and faster. Occasionally a short clap from the gallery.

He gets louder and louder. More rhythmic. More clapping. He inserts a Yeah after every sentence. His sermon becomes a rap. The projectors paint it huge on the wall. Some people stand up.
Even louder, more insistent. In between, a Hammond organ begins to sprinkle in short staccatos. More people stand up. Drums. Although I don’t understand everything, it’s very fast now, it feels like being 5 downwind at a folk festival: you smell candy floss, hear music and your brain tells your body: here you go. Have fun with the endorphins.

Back out onto the street. It’s almost 30 degrees today. Over the hills to Brooklyn Bridge, and then on through the Financial District to the waterfront. Down to Battery Park, scaring the tourists is almost as much fun as riding with Dave through the Weidener Volksfest 15 years ago. On the west side of Lower Manhattan is Hudson River Park. It’s not in any travel guide. Few tourists, New Yorkers chilling in cafes and on the grass everywhere. Directly behind it, speeding bikers, cyclists and skaters. View of New Jersey and broken old piers. At 89th Street, I turn back towards the city centre and head south through Central Park.

I really wanted to have some fun: Riding my bike down Broadway. Problem: I can’t hear anyone with an MP3. And without the constant annoying honking. Sometimes you’re too fast for the cars, then again much too slow. And always in the way. Because there are always cars parked on the actual cycle path, forcing you to get out of the way. At Times Square, I’m on the far right and I’m outrunning everyone. Pfrz! I need 3 litres of juice for 25km. Great fun, despite my sunburn, bubbling belly and trembling knuckles. I cycle back to Brooklyn over the Willamsburg Bridge.

Out for dinner with Sondra and Simon in the evening. The price differences between “I don’t know” and “I know” are huge: you can easily pay four times as much for the same thing. My hosts know the score. Home. Some web design, top up the till. Now it’s midnight. I’m exhausted and can’t sleep. More about why soon…